


Beyond the Surface

by fraufi666



Category: Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, American Presidents, Authority Figures, Crossdressing, Homophobia, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Language, Republican, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>President Nixon has been the keeper of many secrets, yet there is one that even he is confused about. After watching his wife get ready, Nixon takes an uncharacteristic interest in trying out women’s clothing and make up. But what will happen when he is caught in the act? Is there perhaps a reason for this interest, and would this be understood by the person who catches him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a historical AU. Although I have used historical figures and some references based from real events, (e.g Vietnam War, Nixon's presidency) this is entirely a work of fiction. All romantic encounters, events and insinuations are from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any of the people depicted. I am also in no way politically biased.

As the first lady of the United States would get ready for a cocktail party or any formal function, her husband would stand behind her, watching her, as she got ready. President Richard Nixon also was hopeless at tying his tie so it was only natural for him to stand around so that she could assist him. 

Yet from watching her, there was an unusual, unfulfilled curiosity that stirred within him. As Pat had picked up the lipstick, unrolled it and added a touch of colour to her lips, Nixon watched, paying close attention to the way she had applied it. 

He chided himself for being so curious. He was a grown man, and it was simply wrong to entertain even the thought of even mimicking her actions. This was something that those youngsters who were playing around would do; those youngsters who were not even sure of themselves.

Nixon stood in front of the dressing table, staring at his features in the mirror. He had always seen himself as a typical male. He had played football back in college and did all of the activities a typical man did. Even back as a young Vice President, he had resented wearing make up because Kennedy wouldn't. To look more feminine compared to that alpha male from the East Coast was just unheard of. 

But the temptation was just too great. For once, he wanted to look pretty and he was tired of not looking appealing for anyone, not even for himself. With a shaking hand, he reached for the powder that was sitting on the shelf, mystified by how this cosmetic could conceal his lines. Nixon started to powder his face, yet as he did so, inhaled a lungful of white powder. His dark suit turned slightly grey. 

"Cocksucker!" Nixon cursed, before erupting into a series of violent coughs. He spun around, making sure that there was nobody else in the room, or about to come into the room because of his yell. He looked at the mirror, and his face fell. He looked pasty, and unusual. Quickly, he picked up some blush that was nearby, hoping that the red would bring out his cheekbones and give a more natural look. He wondered how Pat did it. Carefully, he applied the rouge, making sure not to put on too much. It looked a little bit better on him, yet there was something missing. 

He checked the different cosmetics on the dressing table until he had found the item he had been looking for. Mascara. As he tried to apply it, his hand shook, bringing black dots around his eyes. Why was this so difficult? Nixon quickly tried to wipe the dots away, but resulted in smudging them. 

Fuming, he had to dampen a tissue to wipe away the dots. But as he did so, this had washed away some of the powder. Nixon frowned and had to reapply it. 

Once he was done, he took an eyeliner pencil to go over his dark brows, for the foundation had greyed them. He was so close now. All that was needed was the red lipstick...the final touch. He was feeling confident, now that he had seen Pat do it many times. It was all just a matter of applying what he had learnt into practice. 

He dragged the lipstick along his lips slowly and then rubbed them together so to spread the colour evenly. But to his shock as he looked at his reflection, he realised that there was too much on and ended up having to wipe off a great deal. 

Finally, it was time to put on the clothes. He opened Pat's wardrobe sheepishly, searching for something that was big enough to fit him. It was 1:35 pm. Pat was probably on her way home now. Nixon hurriedly put the dress on and looked in the mirror. 

It was an awful sight. The dress stretched awkwardly around his hips, while the bodice was much too flat. In all his haste from putting on the dress too quickly, the make up smudged on his face.  He looked more like a frantic clown in an ill-fitting dress, rather than a man dressed with feminine grace. 

 _God damn it. I look terrible._ Nixon thought in horror. _What the hell was I trying to achieve with this?!_ He could hear all of America laughing at him, laughing at this hideous clown in all of his glory. It was as if he was back in 1960 with Kennedy, losing votes merely because his opponent had outshone him with his looks. It was a feeling which made him want to tear off the dress and hide from everyone. 

 _What did you expect to look like, you idiot?_ A voice asked him furiously in the back of his mind _Did you expect to be pretty? Pretty? Ha! You…you will never look good._

"No!" Nixon shouted, and with that tried to take off the dress. But he was much too late. For someone had already discovered his secret.

Kissinger stood standing calmly in the doorway, smirking at the president. Nixon felt his cheeks burn as he stood there, the straps half falling off his shoulders as he was in the process of undressing, still with the makeup smudged on his face. 

"Get away!" Nixon shouted, turning around so that his National Security Advisor could not see him. He felt like his pride had completely diminished. How did he not hear Kissinger coming in? His face turned white with shock…what if it was Pat? 

"Mr President, there is no need to be alarmed." Kissinger responded reassuringly, making his way towards him. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come, let me have a look. I will not judge you." 

"No…" Nixon replied crossly, hiding his face "You'll just laugh at me." 

Kissinger's eyes were intent on him. "Come on, Richard…let me see." He pleaded, his tone gentle. 

Hesitantly, Nixon turned around to face him for the first time, his head hung in shame. 

"Don't ask. JUST DON'T ASK." Nixon responded angrily "I look hideous. No matter what I do, I will always look hideous."

To his surprise, a hand ran against his cheek and Kissinger leaned in closer, smiling. "I think you look very attractive. But those clothes do not suit you."

Nixon frowned in confusion "What are you saying?!" He demanded. 

"You will look much nicer with something more flattering." Kissinger said calmly. He gazed into his dark eyes, admiring the way the dark mascara had emphasised his long lashes. He really was attractive. Even though it was a side, which he had not seen before from the president, he liked catching a glimpse of it. "So we are going to go shopping." He said simply. 

The president chuckled a little, still perplexed by what Kissinger's intentions were "Are you saying that we are going to buy women's clothes? Christ, Henry. Everyone will laugh at me!" 

Kissinger grinned again "Don't you buy clothes for your wife?" He asked. Nixon quickly realised where this conversation was going "There is nothing suspicious in men buying their loved ones garments that they would desire to see them in. So, today we are going to buy clothes for Pat."

Nixon looked up at his National Security Advisor in wonder. The man really was one of the smartest in the world. He seemed to have an answer for everything. All of a sudden, he was so glad to have him by his side to help him. His heart fluttered in gratitude and before he could stop himself threw his arms around Kissinger's neck. 

Kissinger looked surprised, but chuckled in response, returning the embrace.   
  


Once Nixon had washed off all the makeup and dressed back to a suit, the two of them were driven to the central mall in Washington. Nixon hesitantly climbed out of the presidential limousine and was immediately flocked by crowds. Some people wanted to take photos of him, so he quickened his pace. Kissinger glared at a couple of the photographers, who quickly scurried away and left the two men in peace. 

The two walked through the stores and then spotted one of the higher end department stores. Nixon blushed as they walked towards the women's section and hesitated to walk any further. 

"Come on, Mr President. Nobody is going to judge you." Kissinger said calmly, coaxing him.

"Ah...Henry...don't you think we're better off going to look at the men's section first?  Nixon asked, sweating nervously. Now that he thought of it, it would be far more suspicious to only buy women's clothing and nothing else. 

Kissinger gave a small smile in agreement and they went to look at the suits. Nixon purposely stared at the coats for a while, pretending as if he was looking for a particular article and was having trouble finding it. Kissinger was watching him, knowing that he was merely delaying looking at the women's section. But he was patient, knowing that the president was still far too shy and paranoid about the possibility of everyone else finding out his secret. 

Knowing that he was probably never going to move, Kissinger wandered off for a while. As Nixon found a few decent suit jackets, Kissinger threw an assortment of bras, frilly underwear and corsets onto Nixon's pile of clothing. 

"H-Henry.." Nixon was bright red as he looked at these garments. They were even skimpier than what his wife had usually worn.

"I think red suits you best..." Kissinger whispered, a sly grin on his face. "Now come on, let's see if it fits." 

Nixon made sure to wrap up all of the lingerie underneath the suits discreetly before going to the change rooms. A female employee stood there, beaming at the president. 

"Hello sir...is it just these articles?" She asked, clearly star struck that she was serving the most powerful man in the world. 

"Yes, that's all." He lied, and quickly hurried to the change room. Kissinger walked in after him, standing outside the curtained cubicle. He knew that it was going to be a while, but in his mind, he knew that the wait would be worth it.

"Uh..Henry.." Nixon called out.

"Right here, Mr President."

Nixon lowered his voice "I-I don't know how to do up these things...can you help me?" 

Kissinger looked around, making sure that there was nobody else in the fitting rooms and then climbed into the cubicle with him. 

Nixon stood awkwardly wearing a dark red bra and matching underwear. Kissinger assisted him in hooking the bra and then stood back to look at him. The paleness of his body seemed to go rather well with the undergarments and standing there, insecure in his flabby body made him look all the more endearing.

"You look beautiful." Kissinger replied scanning him from head to toe. 

The president blushed, hurriedly pulling off the straps. "No...no I don't. I look stupid. God damn it. If I had a body like Kennedy this wouldn't look so hideous." 

Kissinger did not say anything for a second, but then reached into his coat pocket to produce a pair of black silk tights. 

"I forgot to give these to you. Please, try them on Mr President. You might change your mind." 

Nixon's mouth was agape and before he could protest, Kissinger had left the cubicle. After a few moments, he stared at the silk tights that Kissinger had put in his hand, and wondered what had possessed the man to sneak something so scandalous into his coat pocket. 

Sighing, Nixon slipped the tights on. He was amazed to find how comfortable they were, and when he looked in the mirror was taken aback at the way the material had elongated his long, slender legs. Even though he still did not look as attractive as he had hoped, the tights had made him look slightly more appealing and had taken attention away from his less glamourous figure. 

"Er...Kissinger." Nixon called out.

The other man smiled on the other side of the curtain, knowing all too well that he was correct in changing Nixon's mind. "You can buy them and show them to me when we are alone." He replied. "I know you will look great." 

Just when Nixon was about to change back to his regular clothes, a hand moved into the curtain, handing over a short, dark dress with sleeves. 

"Try this on too." Kissinger murmured. "Let me know if the size is satisfactory."

Nixon looked at the dress and scoffed. It was impossible that he could put on a dress like this without looking like a freak show. But Kissinger's tone was very firm. "If it does not fit, I will get you another. Are you putting it on?"

"Wait! One moment." Nixon said nervously, climbing into the dress. He assumed that he would look just as bad if not worse than he did when wearing Pat's dress but it was as if this one was just catered for him. There was an adjustable belt, which brought out the curves in all of the right places. Before he got too excited, he took it off straight away and came out of the cubical, all of the feminine articles hidden underneath the suits.

"We'll buy them all." The president said, with a look of sheer determination on his face. 

 

Once they had headed back to the White House, Nixon was quick to turn off all of the tape recorder, as well as the surveillance cameras. With a sense of renewed confidence, he was able to apply all of the makeup on without stress, as well as the clothing that Kissinger had selected for him. He had chuckled, remembering how cheerful the cashier was that Nixon was buying some risqué clothing for the first lady. She had no idea, and he couldn't have been more relieved. It was going to stay that way. 

Just as he had finished applying on the final coat of eye shadow, there was a knock on the door. 

"Mr President…here's a final touch." Kissinger's voice called.

Nixon opened the door slightly ajar and his hand came to contact with a large, hairy object. He let go in shock, dropping whatever it was that was in his hand. 

"What the hell was that?!" 

Kissinger's chuckles were gentle behind the door. "Only the final thing you need. It is handy having many young escorts leaving their items behind." He responded, hinting at his own swinger ways*. 

Nixon scowled at the comment but later on reached for what turned out to be a long, black wig. The bangs had concealed his receding forehead. For the first time in a long time, he looked much younger and more feminine in a dark, mysterious way. Was this the sort of look Kissinger had preferred for his women? Nixon tried to push away feelings of possible jealously that was coming to mind. Kissinger would not have gone all the way to risk his reputation by assisting him in buying feminine clothes if he had not cared for him deeply. 

When all was clear, Kissinger opened the door to find a long legged woman with dark hair, smoky, fierce Republican eyes and red lips sitting on the president's desk. He smiled. 

"Well well..you look much better than I had expected. Much _much_ better." Kissinger purred in his heavy accent. He reached out to touch Nixon's cheek, but was slapped in return. 

"…You’re only saying that because I look like a woman." Nixon grumbled. 

Kissinger smiled, taking hold of both of his hands "We both know that is not the reason." He replied. "But tell me, how does it feel to be beautiful?"

"Well… It feels…nice." Nixon muttered bashfully, tugging his skirt. He crossed his legs instinctively, knowing that he should thank Kissinger for everything "Erm...I don't know what to say..." 

Kissinger put a finger to the lipsticked lips; hushing the president "You don't have to say anything." He responded, aware that the president was too embarrassed and proud to thank him for such a deed "I know…" 

Nixon stretched out a leg towards Kissinger, as if in an attempt to seduce him. "What do you think of the tights?"

The blue eyes scanned over the legs "Sehr gut." He replied. 

Nixon gave him a playful kick. "You know I can't understand a word when you talk like that." He said, although there was a smile on his face. "Now help me take off this damn thing." He ordered. 

"Yes Mr President." Kissinger said obediently. 

Kissinger examined one of the legs closely, tracing his hand over it. With care, he removed the tights slowly, running his lips over the exposed skin as he did so. As he planted consecutive kisses on each of Nixon's bare legs, the president was growing more excited and eager for further action. 

Suddenly, the National Security Advisor was kissing him deeply as he unzipped his dress. He gazed at Nixon's pale, lingerie clad body, cupping his hands over his chest before pinning him down on the desk, kissing him again. His fingers crept up towards Nixon's neck and then threaded through the long black locks, tugging them as their lips were locked once more. In this fitful exchange of caresses, both men were living in their deepest fantasies together. Nixon knew that all the make up was going to smudge off as they continued, but he did not seem to mind at all, for Kissinger knew the man underneath all of those layers. Neither of them could remember being this naughty before. Not even their teenage years could suffice. 

 

Later, the two of them lay in each other's arms on the floor, surrounded by scattered paperwork, which had fallen from the desk from a frenzy of passion. Nixon was still wearing the lingerie, although the wig had fallen off his head a while ago. 

"Hey Henry, did you mean what you said earlier?" Nixon asked, his dark gaze piercing into Kissinger's bespectacled one.

Kissinger took the other man's face into his hands and there was a long silence before they had spoken; yet his words were sincere. 

"Richard…the last thing I want is for you to feel as if you are not good enough. I hope that today's exercise at least helped you to see that you are not as hideous as you think you are."

Nixon's tone was still filled with disbelief "Come on Henry. I'm still hideous and you know it."

"So you may not look like Kennedy." Kissinger admitted "But you are you. You are just as handsome in your own way." He smiled at him kindly, as if a patient teacher "What you have, are qualities that are beyond the surface. You have that energy that only Nixon can have. You are intelligent and have that presence and charisma that cannot be measured by anyone else. And I think that that in itself makes you great, even if you cannot see it." 

As Kissinger spoke those uplifting words, Nixon's began to beat faster. Taking him by surprise, the president kissed him directly on the mouth, as if to repay him in actions alone. 

"I love you, my Jew-boy." Nixon said, gazing into his eyes lovingly.

Although most Americans had disagreed with most things the president had said, Kissinger knew, deep in his heart that every word that was spoken by Tricky Dick was the truth. He treasured them just as much as Nixon had over his words, before the two locked into another embrace. 

 

It was this close bond that had far more beyond the surface than any outsider could notice. And it was this bond between these two men that seemed to go on as endless as the sea. But that did not matter to either of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation key: 
> 
> Sehr gut: Very good 
> 
>  
> 
> *Footnotes for historical explanations:
> 
> “…hinting at his own swinger ways”: There were rumours that Henry Kissinger had a reputation as a swinger and was rather popular with women. This particular story not only demonstrates the hidden side of Nixon’s fantasies, but also of Kissinger’s. It is an opportunity for him to also indulge in the idea of being with a woman, although one in a powerful position.


End file.
